Uptown Girl
by Grace of the Feathered Pen
Summary: Ever since the day I first saw her, I knew it was meant to be. No doubt in the back of my mind, I continued to pine for the same girl for what felt like years, but in reality had only been a few months. In my mind, she is perfect; there is no one else in the world quite like her. And who can blame me, this is the first time I have ever been in love.


_**Uptown **__**Girl**_

_"Uptown Girl"_

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><p><strong>Saturday August 23rd 2014 2:00 pm<strong>

It's a sunny summer day in Radiant Garden, and the air smells of roses; I internally gag. In order to drown out the smell of the perky flowers that are everywhere in this too-cheerful country, I light up a cigar and press it between my lips. Some children run by, and I plaster my customary scowl on my face, instantly thinking of my siblings back at the house, under the care of Elena. I never have been too good with kids myself, and I'm glad that when mom and dad died, they left me with Elena and Larxene; and that is the only good thing they have ever done.

Just thinking about the creep and creep-ette makes me shiver in both fright, and disgust. I'm glad their dead; I guess I never was the most appreciative son. Thankfully, my beloved co-worker brings me out of my chain of thought.

"Highwind! Get your ass in here and give me a hand, will ya?" I chuckle lowly; my gravel-like voice comes out rough and scratchy.

"Don't get your panties in a knot, Wallace! I'm comin'!" I hear a loud crash and then followed by some low muttering coming from the building my back rests against. I pull my cigar out from between my teeth and stomp it out on the ground. Slowly, I turn and make my way into the building; my work place, Radiant Garden Auto Shop and Repair. As soon as I step in, I see my co-worker Barret Wallace, all 6'5" of the dark skinned man buried underneath piles of scrap metal. I don't even realize that I have been standing there for a while when I hear his lovely voice again.

"Cid!" I swear the earth just shook.

"Yes, fuck face?" I call out sweetly, so he knows that I am in fact here, and did actually hear him.

"Cid, I swear to god! Help me out!" Without needing another words prompt, I begin lifting pieces off of the large man and help him get to his feet. "There ya go, man. You're looking as sunshiny as ever." He glares at me with those cold brown eyes, the three scars on his face making him appear more threatening; to everyone except me, of course, who deals with this on an almost daily basis.

"Whatever, I'm too tired for this."

Together we work on repairing cars and collecting scrap metal, in hopes we may be able to use it one day. The day is long and covered in grease, as is everyday. After working together for seven years with the guy, you begin to grow on each other. He might actually be what normal people consider to be a "best friend"; cue over dramatic scoff. As the clock nears 2:15, I am brought back into reality, again. "By the way, Cid, isn't it your time to go?"

"Yeah, but Elena's got the kids. I figured I would stick around to see if you need anything."

"Nah. Everything is handled down here. Go home, they need you there more than I need you here." I decided not to argue, I do fear that they will go missing one day as well, and the next I hear of them will be on the news. Not that I'd ever tell them that.

I pull into the driveway of my house. It's not a bad house at all, big enough to fit my nine siblings and I, that is. As soon as I slam the car door close, I am knocked to the side, as a little hyperactive ball of energy attaches her to my leg.

"Famlusa rusa, Ciddy!" Rikku exclaims in our native tongue, staring up at me with her very green eyes. I tussle her blonde hair a little bit as my version of a friendly hello.

"Rammu, Rikku, frana yna ouin cecdanc yht pnudranc?" She ignores my question, and begins babbling about nothing, like most two year olds do. She tugs on my arm and leads me into the house. Once inside, she runs around screaming that I am home. I see Elena round the corner, holding a squirming Brother, as he tells her quite loudly to put him down.

"Elena, ruf yna oui?" She puts Brother down, and sits down on the green sofa in our living room, and I join her instantly. Her soft brown eyes, meet my cold blue ones. I notice how she searches through my eyes quickly before giving her answer in a very fluent manner, which can only be described as Elena. "Famm, E ys kuut, pid dra getc yna y ryccma. Dra naym xiacdeuh ec ruf yna oui?" I am caught speechless by her question, but quickly answer with a grunt. Elena has always been the most brilliant, and perceptive out of the ten of us, Yoshiya coming in a very close second.

"When do you have work?" I ask, breaking eye contact to further dodge the question, while changing to English. She tries desperately to search through my eyes again, but to no avail. She realizes this as she let out a sighs and answers in English as well. "I go in tomorrow."

"I have work tomorrow too, though."

"Larxene will have to take over."

"Where is the mega bitch, by the way?" I ask curiously, because I could have sworn she was staying in with Elena today to help with the kids. She gives me a glare for the nickname, but let's it slide this time.

"She took Demyx, Hayner, Joshua and Kain out so that I would only have to worry about Brother, Buddy and Rikku." I gave a slight nod in approval at the idea. Larxene really isn't all that bad, just her attitude to other people that excludes family. I remember one time when she was nine; she punched a man in the nuts because he said something she didn't like. I break out of my daze to stare at the clock ahead. It reads 2:32 pm at the moment, which means dinner won't be ready for another four hours, or so. I glance to my right to stare at my sister. "I'm goin' ta head ta my room. Holla if you need me." As I retreat to my room, I hear an "I will," before I make it safely inside my sanctuary and slam the door shut behind me.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror on the far wall, and sigh. My blonde hair is either plastered to my forehead, or sticking out at weird angles. My blue eyes have black bags underneath them, and grease stains everywhere else. I run a hand on my chin, and feel the stubble there. Normally, I would shave, but the look is growing on me, plus I haven't really had the chance to shave lately. I strip out of my greasy work clothes and toss them aside. I decide to take a shower, and man, what a great idea.

As the water hits me, I feel rejuvenated, and refreshed. My hair feels less grungy, and my skin less oily. The steam coming from the boiling hot temperature in the shower does wonders for my aching back, and biceps. The shampoo goes into my hair, and I lather my scalp with the crap. My fingers massaging my skull for a minute, before I let the suds wash away into the drain. Soap makes it's way onto my body, as I scrub extra hard to get all the grime off of me. It feels like I rubbed off a whole layer of skin, but it only serves to make me feel brand new.

I step out of the shower, and wrap myself in a nice clean towel. I swear there is nothing better than stepping out of the shower, only to feel like a new man. When people look at me, they would not believe I enjoy being clean so much, but on the contrary, there is nothing I love more than being clean; with the exception of family, maybe. When I found out mom and dad died, the first thought I had was _oh shit_ and then after that, I gave a _fuck. _But that doesn't mean I wasn't happy. In fact I was ecstatic. My brothers and sisters wouldn't have to deal with those sons of bitches anymore. The only problem was they had nowhere to go. So what I did was I sold my old bachelor pad and chick magnet car, in favor of a family van, and a house big enough for the ten of us. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be able to afford this house. Thank god those idiots had life insurance.

There were hardly any rules when they moved in. First is we never talk about the past. It only brings back tortuous memories, and the past is in the past. Second rule is we clean up messes, save for bedrooms. Bedrooms are personal business, but the rest of the house does not need to look like a war zone. The third and final rule is never say 'I love you.' That involves attachment, and I cannot bring myself to get more attached to them. I _won't._ If I ever lost any of them-

I forced myself to break out of my train of though- it was getting to a dangerous topic. I prefer to stay outside of my mind, anyhow. Then I start thinking again: whose idea was it to take in nine siblings, each with their own personalities, likes and dislikes? For a second I think I spot a wrinkle on my face somewhere, but it is only a false alarm. _Cid, you are only twenty-three. You are too young for this._

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><p>Author's notes: This was originally called Scars, but I have decided to split it up into smaller stories, in order to focus more on each individual character. This is the story of Cid and Shera. Each chapter I will post a new line from the song as the header.<p>

Al Bhed translations: "Welcome home, Ciddy!"

"Hello, Rikku, where are your brothers and sisters?"

"Elena, how are you?"

"Well, I am good, but the kids are a hassle. The real question is how are you?"


End file.
